Shooting Kabul Read Online Free PDF Page B

twenty-sixth pit.
    â€œThere it is!” cried Mariam. Her small fingers pulledan old honey tin out from near the roots of the tree, and she sat back with a tremendous grin. Fadi could see the gleam of her teeth in the moonlight.
    â€œOkay. What’s in there that’s so important?” he asked.
    Mariam pulled open the rusty lid and shone the candle inside. Nestled in a scrap of purple velvet was a tiny jar of Mariam’s baby teeth. Next to it was Gulmina’s hand, which had been chopped off by the metal fence. There was a broken pearl earring that belonged to their mother, one of Noor’s old belt buckles studded with gleaming colored glass, a shiny stone that resembled a gold nugget, her father’s tassel from his graduation cap from the University of Wisconsin, and old water-stained pictures Fadi thought his mother had thrown out. One showed Fadi holding Mariam when she was a baby.
    â€œWow,” said Fadi. “You saved all this stuff?”
    â€œYup,” said Mariam. “It’s all the memories of my life.”
    â€œWell, I’m glad we found it, then.”
    â€œWill you keep it in your backpack for me?”
    â€œAbsolutely,” said Fadi, pulling Mariam up. Covered in dust and clumps of dirt, they hurried inside to clean up before their mother found them.
    The spoon felt cold and clammy in his hands. Fadidropped it into his lap and leaned back from the tray table. There are a lot of people looking for her, he thought. She’ll be found soon. But, niggled a dark voice in the back of his mind, she shouldn’t have been lost in the first place. If only I’d stopped to put her stupid doll in my backpack like she’d asked me to, then she wouldn’t have dropped it. It was all my fault. He pulled his bread roll apart, sending a shower of crumbs over Noor.
    â€œWatch it!” she growled.
    He offered his slice of cake as a peace offering. She took it and stabbed at it with her fork.
    While in Pakistan he’d tried to sneak out of Khala Nargis’s house. He hadn’t known exactly where he was going, but he’d wanted to go look for Mariam. But before he’d been able to exit the gates onto the chaotic rain-drenched streets of Peshawar, Noor had caught him.
    â€œWhere are you going?” she’d asked.
    â€œUh, to the corner store. To get some, uh, candy,” he’d mumbled.
    â€œYou don’t have any money.” She’d stated the obvious.
    â€œI was, uh …”
    â€œGet back in the house,” Noor had barked. “One missing kid is enough.”
    The piercing look she had given him had made Fadiwince. She knows it’s my fault Mariam got left behind.

W ELCOME TO SAN FRANCISCO, announced the sign at the head of the cavernous international arrival hall. Fadi stood in the immigration line and looked around the sprawling airport in awe. Two other planes had arrived at the same time as their Virgin Atlantic flight, and the sea of pearly gray carpet swarmed with people, all waiting to have their papers processed.
    â€œMove,” ordered Noor. She pushed Fadi forward as their turn came.
    â€œPapers, please,” said the immigration officer. He wore a crisp white shirt with an official seal stitched on the right sleeve.
    â€œHere you are,” said Habib, handing him a large envelope. He gave Fadi a wink as the officer pulled out the pages.
    â€œYou’re seeking asylum, I see?” the officer asked.
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Fadi looked at the thick pile of papers from the Consul General in Peshawar. It was the story of what had happened to them in Afghanistan and the danger Habib had faced when he’d been pressured to join the Taliban.
    The officer entered a series of numbers into the computer, his face serious. After what seemed like an hour of typing, he turned his attention to the pile of passports.
    â€œWhat’s this?” he asked, pulling an American passport from the bundle.